


Show Me a Different Side

by neevebrody



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode Related, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-13
Updated: 2010-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-07 05:34:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neevebrody/pseuds/neevebrody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teyla notices his eyes, they're beautiful, almost gray in this light, and his smile is so easy.  She seems to be looking at him for the first time and feels somewhat ashamed that she's never thought of him as someone other than a soldier or team member.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Show Me a Different Side

**Author's Note:**

> Written as friendship with an eye to possibly more for secondalto  
> Spoilers for Spoils of War

She likes this time best – late evening when most of the activity around the city has slowed, nothing but the bright moonlight and city lights for illumination, casting shadows that play along the polished floor and high walls of the gym. Palms open on her knees; her thoughts drift to how much longer she'll be able to use this position, then she brings herself back to focus.

The swell of her breasts slowly rises and falls with her breathing – deep and even as she tries to erase every last remnant of the Wraith Queen from her consciousness, every last touch that creature inflicted upon her body and spirit, reaching even deeper to connect with her unborn child to let him know all is well and there is nothing to fear.

With each exhalation her body rids itself of the taint, each inhalation brings renewed strength – gaining the power she needs to nurture and protect.

The rhythm of her respiration hones her focus to an almost Tantric level, to a place where she can be at peace again, relaxed and sure. Vague sounds slowly filter in around her, footsteps perhaps, but they seem so distant and unimportant that she doesn't turn around right away, doesn't break her concentration. Not until she clearly distinguishes someone else's measured, rhythmic breathing.

"Major Lorne?"

Sitting off to her right, the Major opens his eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you. I tried to be as quiet as I could."

"No. It is all right. I am just surprised. I was not aware that you meditated."

The soft light illuminates one half of his face as he turns and smiles, the corner of his mouth forms a dimple barely visible beneath the shadow of his stubble. "Well, it's not common knowledge. I usually do this in my quarters, but some nights I like to come here late, when there's no one around." He lifts a hand to scratch his chin with an almost boyish charm. "I like to listen to the ocean. I use it as my focus."

"It is very calming," Teyla agrees.

"I should have expected to see you here."

Teyla lowers her head. "Yes, it has been a most eventful day, but I am feeling much better now. However, I feel it will be my last mission for some time." She looks up again.

The Major's face seems to soften. "You know, Colonel Sheppard's just thinking of your safety and the baby's. He may not be good at expressing it, but things like that are very important to him. He doesn't even assign Marines who have families to known dangerous missions."

"I realize that Major, and I know he means well. It is just that—I feel I am still valuable to my team."

Lorne leans forward. "Of course you are. Teyla, I don't think anyone here questions that. You did great today—you saved the lives of your team."

The emotion of the day begins to well up insider her. "At the risk of my child." She bows her head again.

"Hey, that's all over now—none of that. Here," he says, moving over to sit in front of her, almost knee to knee. "Deep breaths—"

She offers a weak smile. "Really, Major, I am fine." Then, thinking to change the subject she asks, "How long have you practiced meditation?"

"A few years now. I'm a little sporadic, but I try to keep up, especially when I'm working on a piece. I tend to meditate more often then."

"A 'piece'?"

"A painting—I paint. Dabbling is more accurate, but I enjoy it. Sometimes, it seems almost like another form of meditation—keeps me occupied."

"You are full of surprises, Major."

"How's that?" he asks, cocking his head.

"First I find out you are an expert with children and now an artist."

His smile is full and open this time, deepening his dimple and showing his teeth. "Well, I _have_ changed many a diaper and given many a bath."

Teyla notices his eyes, they're beautiful, almost gray in this light, and his smile is so easy. She seems to be looking at him for the first time and feels somewhat ashamed that she's never thought of him as someone other than a soldier or team member.

The smile wanes as he slides his hand around the back of his neck. "I helped her out—my sister—after her husband left. After the second baby, he decided he wasn't cut out for fatherhood." Lorne's disdain is clear in his voice.

She takes a moment to think about that. "He abandoned them?"

Lorne nods. "Unfortunately, it's an all too frequent occurrence on Earth. It's been tough on her, raising them on her own. The guy never sees them, but he sends her money every now and then." He looks up and smiles again. "We've got a pretty tight-knit family, so everyone pitches in."

"Who helps her now that you are here?"

"My parents help out and her ex-husband's sister helps some, they still get along amazingly well, and the boys are older now so that's a big help in itself. Most of my pay goes to her and my parents."

"You are a kind man, Major and a very loving uncle. I hope that someday you will be rewarded with a good woman and children of your own."

Even in the dim light, Teyla catches a hint of his blush. "Anyway, that's kind of the way it'll be around here. This little one will have all the uncles he can stand. So," he says getting up. "You feel free to call on me anytime you feel overwhelmed. I'm an old hand and I particularly like story time."

"Your painting," she asks, not really wanting their conversation to end. "It is something secret, or—"

His face flushes a bit and she wonders if she has embarrassed him. "Would you like to see it?"

She says she would and as he helps her up, Teyla notices how gentle his hands are. She's seen how deft they can be with a weapon or flying a jumper and she admonishes herself again for never thinking there were other things he might do with his hands that didn't involve guns or violence or killing. Lorne picks up their belongings and they head for the transporter.

His room is like most of the others on Atlantis, very clean and very spartan, only the basics. The bed impeccably made, a few books are stacked neatly on the desk and a beautiful painting of the city's spires hangs over his bed.

The corner of the room nearest the window houses the only chaos: a small table littered with jars, cloths, brushes and a box containing many tubes. She follows Lorne with her eyes as he steps over to a large easel beside the table, its occupant covered with a paint-splotched cloth. Sketch pads lay on the floor underneath and a small stool squats before the easel.

She watches Evan lift the protective cloth and step back. Her breath catches.

Photographs were unknown to the Athosians before the new Lanteans arrived, but seeing one's likeness is still startling. Even more so to see yourself as someone else sees you. She raises her hand to her belly, unconsciously mimicking the pose captured in the fine texture of the canvas.

"Why, Evan… it is—"

"Beautiful?" he asks, stepping closer, looking toward the painting. "That was the easy part—I had the perfect subject."

"It is breathtaking. But—why would you choose to paint me?"

He seems to ponder his answer. "I like to think I can see beauty in everything, even the everyday, and this city is full of everyday, ordinary beauty. When I saw you out on that balcony that day," he says, pointing to the painting. "I just knew it was a moment I wanted to capture."

Heat prickles over her chest and shoulders. She's not used to such openness and ease from the Major. Still, she's not uncomfortable being here. In fact, it's like being with someone she knows well, a friend.

Teyla smiles at him and takes a few steps forward toward the canvas: she stands on one of the balconies of the city, the spires and the play of light in the background, her hair swept back by the gentle ocean breeze, the golden glints of the Lantean sun rendered by bold strokes of color. In profile, the look on her face reflects a radiance, a reserve, and pride as her hand rests atop the crest of her barely swollen stomach.

"Would you like to have it," he asks softly. "When I'm done?"

She turns to him with wide eyes. "May I?" She's genuinely surprised that he would offer. "But, do you mean it is not finished. It looks—"

"Oh no, not yet." He walks over and slips the cloth back over the painting. "Don't ask how we know when something's finished," he smiles. "We just know. Not until that last brushstroke, that last little touch that satisfies our critical eye and says 'I'm ready to go'."

She blinks at him, suddenly captured by a sort of epiphany. As an artist, Evan takes a plain, empty canvas, builds on it, giving of himself to shape the image that will eventually develop there, loving and nurturing until it, too, like a new life, is ready to be born.

Lorne's voice startles her; he holds out his hand. "Come on, let's get you back to your quarters, you really should get some rest after today. Are you okay, do you need anything?"

"I am fine," she says quietly, taking his hand. As they walk the long hallway from the military residence, she's suddenly filled with a peacefulness that has eluded her all day, even her meditation had not elicited such a feeling. Through Evan's eyes, she realizes that everything's going to be all right. Her baby will be born among people who care and who will care for him, even if his father is never found. She feels even more confident about her meeting with John earlier, about her decision not to jeopardize her life or the life of her baby and she knows that decision makes her no less a woman, no less a team member, no less a friend, and no less a productive member of Atlantis society.

She will always be a leader, but she will also be a mother, a nurturer, a giver of life and after the harrowing experience with the Queen, who'd sought to truly destroy all of that, Teyla finds she's satisfied with that for now.

"Thank you, Evan," she says, turning to him at they reach her door.

"For what?"

She sweeps her hand across the crystals to open the door. "For showing me a different side of you… and for your offer to change diapers."

He unleashes that smile again as he lets go of her other hand. "Just remember," he says, turning to head back. "Story time's my favorite."

"I will remember." She watches him walk out of sight, circling her hand over the rise of her belly. _I will remember_.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: goddess47


End file.
